


it's a new dawn; it's a new day (and i'm feelin' good)

by monsterbate



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blame Barry Allen for Everything, F/M, Gen, General spoilers, Groundhog Day, Speed Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterbate/pseuds/monsterbate
Summary: “It’s like I’m stuck in a loop—no matter what I do, I keep waking up from the coma, like I did after I got struck by lightning.”Cisco bites into his Twizzler before responding. “That sounds like some freaky Groundhog Day shit right there, bro.”There are some things Barry Allen cannot outrun.





	it's a new dawn; it's a new day (and i'm feelin' good)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Nina Simone's "Feeling Good" which is all things perfection.

_Waking #43_

“It’s like I’m stuck in a loop—no matter what I do, I keep waking up from the coma, like I did after I got struck by lightning.”

Cisco bites into his Twizzler before responding. “That sounds like some freaky _Groundhog Day_ shit right there, bro.”

“What?” Caitlin asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, what?”

“I am disgusted with you all right now,” Cisco says, wagging his licorice at them both. “That movie is a classic.”

“But how does that help Barry?”

“Shorthard, Caitlin. If he’s really stuck in a loop, he’s probably going to be having this conversation with us every time he wakes up and he needs a way to explain himself.”

“It doesn’t work if all participants haven’t seen the movie, however.”

Cisco’s shoulders deflate slightly. “You’re not wrong.”

Barry throws his hands wide. “I’m sure we’ll figure this out the next time I have this conversation with you guys but what I really need is some advice on what’s going on because this is seriously creepy.”

“Are you _sure_ we shouldn’t be including Doctor Wells in this? I mean, he has experience in theoretical alternate dimensions and if he knew—” Caitlin looks uncomfortable, and Barry is reminded of how she had reacted when they’d first broached Thawne/Well’s possible betrayal originally, the first time he’d woken up from his coma.

“ _No_. Listen: I know he’s your mentor; I know he’s supported you both throughout this entire—thing, but I can’t...I _can’t_ have him involved right now, OK?”

“OK, OK. We got it.” Cisco frowns, chewing thoughtfully on the end of another Twizzler. “So you’re stuck in a loop—what’s causing it? Is it like triggered by you going to sleep? Is there a time limit?”

“No, no time limit. I think...I think it’s triggered by my powers. Whenever I try to, ah, extend myself, I black out. And when I come to, I’m back in STAR Labs for the first time, listening to Gaga and getting told about lightning and comas and—”

“What do you mean, ‘extend yourself’?” Caitlin cuts in.

“I mean that I’m...faster than I am right now. I can do _more_ and whenever I attempt to, everything goes dark.”

“Hmm,” Cisco says.

“Hmm,” Caitlin echoes.

::

_Waking #1_

Barry slides into wakefullness, body aching and _new_ in a way he didn’t quite understand. There is the thump of—is that Gaga?—in the background, and the sheets are unfamiliar, and everything smells vaguely medical and strange. When he opens his eyes, the glare of lights disorients him for half a second before he realizes—STAR Labs; the Cortex; and fuck—

“Oh my god!” Cisco, but—not the right Cisco; not _his_ Cisco, and—  

“He’s up!” Another Caitlin, looking harder and younger and—-

“Where am I?” They both leap into action; Cisco going for a communicator and Caitlin checking his vitals and _fuck_ the deja vu was starting to feel inescapable because he knows what Cisco is going to say; knows that he is going to tell him—

“Hey, whoa, relax: everything’s OK, man. You’re at STAR Labs. I’m Cisco Ramon and she’s Caitlin—Doctor Snow—”

“I need you to urinate in this,” Caitlin interrupts, holding up a sample cup, and then—

“Not this second,” Cisco interjects and Barry can feel the panic rise in his skin; knows that this is something new, something _wrong_ but doesn’t know how to put it in words, except—

“What’s happening?”

“You were struck by lightning, dude.” And he can hear Cisco’s profound _joy_ at the ridiculousness of it, and he turns and and finds the monitors and yep, that is him but _young_ and god, it feels strange. “Lightning gave me abs?” he remembers and then, _yes_ , Caitlin is there, precise Doctor’s hands on his shoulders and arms as she explains _chronic but unexplained state of cellular regeneration_ , and then Cisco—explaining the coma—and _nine months_ and he feels sick—  

Because this wasn’t—this wasn’t what he’d left, or when he’d left, or anything like it. It was— _fuck_ after the lightning, after the particle accelerator, before Thawne/Wells, before Earth-2, before the Speedforce, before his mother, before any of it—this was when he first got his powers, wasn’t it? This was—

“I—I gotta go,” he says, and tries to speed for the door, stumbling over his feet, over his confusion and over the very real terror building in his gut, and realizing as soon as he starts moving that something isn’t right as the world goes dark around him.

::

_Waking #5_

Gaga. Cisco and Caitlin. The sample cup; the lightning explanation; the awkward conversation with Thawne/Wells—Barry makes himself leave the lab at a walk. He does not push. He does not run. Every other time he had tried, he fell into the blackness and woke up in that hospital bed again.

Now that he’s outside he—isn’t sure where to go. Jitters? He’d gone there originally, but the thought of seeing Iris, now, like _this_ —now, when he knew what it was to be with her, to have her as a partner, as a girlfriend, as a fiancée, as a _wife_ —

She wouldn’t remember any of it. She would look at him like she always did—like she always had—but it wouldn’t be because she was in love with him but because he was her best friend. And god, that divide—that huge break between what _was_ and what _is_ makes him feel like he can’t quite breathe.

He goes to the station, looks for Joe, and discovers Eddie sitting at the desk that was once his, looking hale and hearty and _alive_ and it rips a new hole in Barry’s chest because fuck, of course this was Eddie’s story, too, wasn’t it? The story of a man who loved a woman who loved him back but did what he could to save the goddamn _world_ and—

He’s running before he can stop himself, turning for the door even as the world goes black around him.

::

_Waking #43, cont._

“What sorts of things?” Cisco asks. “Are you talking, like, new powers?”

“No—just...extensions of the powers I already have. Or will have? Like—I can shoot lightning? And I hit Mach 3. I can run fast enough to open breaches—”

“Barry—none of those things are even _possible_ ,” Caitlin says.

“But they _are_ ,” he says, and there’s frustration in his voice, and he feels like pulling out his hair because if they don’t believe him—who will? Thawne/Wells? “I’ve done them; I’ve learned how to do them. I’m not—I’m not delusional,” he says. “Both of you have been there every step of the way. How else would I know about Dante? And Ronnie?”

They share a look that’s a little scared and a lot uncertain.

::

_Waking #13_

Gaga; the cup; escape in the STAR labs sweatshirt. He finds himself outside Jitters because what else is there for him but Iris? There is nothing—no one else. It’s only ever been her. He’s tried avoiding this, avoiding _her_ and yes, he’s absolutely a coward but can you blame him?

Her face lights up when she sees him and he remembers it; remembers how she flew across the diner; flew into his arms; hugged him so tight—”You’re _awake_ ,” she says and “Why didn’t STAR Labs call us?”

“I just woke up—”

“Should you even be on your feet?”

“Iris, I’m OK—”

“I watched you die, Barry; you kept dying. Your heart kept stopping.” He can hear the pain in her voice and it knifes through him, vivid and real in a way that reminds him too much of where he should be. He needs to fix this; needs to understand why he’s being made to relive these moments again and again and again.

“It’s still beating,” he says, pressing her hand to his heart, to his strange heart that keeps its own time but has always— _will_ always—belong to her.

“It feels really fast,” she says, and this is where it begins, he knows: when he realized that things had changed, when the waitress behind her gets jostled and her tray starts to fall and the world slows, stretches out. What’s new is that the surge of power under his skin suddenly feels immediate instead of locked away—

But just as suddenly, the world snaps back and he finds himself cocooned in a place he doesn’t quite understand, Iris’s hand still trapped against his chest, and the look in her eyes one he could never, ever forget.

::

_Waking #27_

He goes along with what he remembers. He says nothing to Iris. He says nothing to Joe. He says nothing to anyone.

When he’s alone for the first time in what feels like years, he looks at the horizon and waits. And waits. And finally—as the sky turns towards dusk, he sets his feet and runs.

The darkness waits until he’s hit his stride, until he’s trying to go just that little bit faster and then—

::

_Waking #43, cont._

(Caitlin tells Thawne, anyways, and there’s—he can’t—and Barry can’t see for the tears in his eyes because it was never supposed to go like this.

He runs—he runs—he _runs_.)  

::

_Waking #45_

Gaga; sample cup; STAR Labs sweatshirt.

“That sounds like some freaky _Groundhog Day_ shit right there, bro.” Cisco; his Twizzlers.

“What?” Caitlin; eyebrows furrowed.

“I am disgusted with you all right now. That movie is a classic.”

“But how does this help Barry?”

“Shorthand,” Barry says with Cisco, bringing him up short. “If I’m really stuck in a loop, I’m probably going to be having this conversation with you every time I wake up and I need a way to explain myself.

Cisco laughs, hands clutched in his hair. “It’s like you’re in my head. Are you _sure_ the lightning didn’t give you telepathy?”

“Nope,” Barry says, and he wants to laugh, or maybe cry, too, because this reminds him of his Cisco. “Nope—just super speed.”

“ _Wicked_.”

“Super speed?” Caitlin repeats. “I don’t—”

“I don’t have it _yet_ , but I will. Soon. But this needs to stay between us. You have to promise me.”

He makes them swear on Ronnie and Dante and tries to ignore the way their faces twist as they realize he is something even stranger than they had supposed.

“How fast do you think you can go?” Cisco asks after the silence has gotten awkward. He’s clearly doing calculations in his head. “Assuming, of course, that you actually are super fast—”

“I am. I swear I am.”

Thawne/Wells enters the room and asks about tests, and the urge to run feels stifling. But he stays and lets them poke him, prod him, hoping that this time, things might be … different. That he won’t have to see the people he loves hurt; that he won’t have to lie; that he won’t have to keep reliving these moments.

He wants to run; he needs to—but inescapable, always, is the darkness.

::

_Waking #37_

He’s with Iris.

He’d ducked out of the lab like he’d done the—the first time, and now he’s at Jitters and Iris is smiling at him with all her love and all her fear and all her happiness rolled into a look that might just kill him.

“My dad is going to be so happy to see you. I’m going to get my stuff, OK?”

“Actually—” he says, and the truth is bubbling up in his chest so thickly he can’t breathe. “Actually—can we just...sit, for a moment? I—I’ve missed you, Iris. _So much_. And I can’t—”

Immediately she’s back, beautiful face concerned, hands around his wrists. “Absolutely, Barry. Anything. Do you want—? Here, or maybe somewhere more private?”

“Somewhere private, maybe?”

She leads him to the tiny storage closet that he’s familiar with from visiting her as the Flash in another life and sits him on a box of syrups and kneels in front of him, eyes worried, lip between her teeth. He feels himself falling; feels the knowledge that this moment won’t last; feels the Speedforce like a distant sea, summoning him.

And he kisses her. Without words, without explanation—he kisses her.

For a heartbeat, for the space between seconds, she kisses him back.

But nothing here can last and she tears away, expression confused and hurt and betrayed. “What—what was that for?”

“Iris, I—”

“Barry, you can’t—we—Barry, I’m seeing someone.”

“I know. I know you’re dating Eddie. And I know this doesn’t make any sense. But I had to tell you because everything’s changed and I can’t figure out how to get it right again. I love you. I love you so goddamn much—and I shouldn’t tell you like this, but I had to tell you at least once because it’s not going to matter, but—”

“What are you saying?” And now she sounds vaguely panicked. “Are you—are you sure you’re OK? Maybe we should take you to the hospital; maybe you should talk to a doctor.”

“I love you, Iris. Please—just know that I love you. So much.” And he’s crying; near-sobbing as the truth of just how alone he is, just how scared he is rushes through him. “I’m so afraid: I don’t know if I can do it all again and again and again. I just want to go _home_ ; home to you, Iris.”

And Iris—strong, invincible Iris—wraps her arms around him and holds him close, shushing him gently as he sobs.

Later, later, when she gets him to his feet and leads him back out into Jitters, he will kiss her one last time before he tries to run and when the world goes dark he will know he can survive this for her. That he can survive anything at all, for her.

::

_Waking #58_

He goes through it all: STAR Labs; Jitters; the police station; Iris and Eddie; Martin’s little car chase; back to STAR Labs.

When he steps out of the trailer in Cisco’s ridiculous spandex getup, he wants to laugh and he wants to cry. And he lines up and waits for things to go dark but they _don’t_ ; instead, he’s off like a— _fuck_ —like _the_ flash and for the first time since this whole catastrophe started, he’s _running_. He’s moving, faster and faster until—

The fall doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as he remembers, but maybe that’s because he’s had lots and lots of practice in falling since then.

He’s absolutely giddy for the next two days, the adrenaline keeping him boyuent. But when he’s unraveling the tornado and he realizes that Joe’s about to pull his gun and shoot Martin—that’s when Barry runs _harder_ because there has to be another way.

Lightning, and the world goes dark.

::

_Waking #65_

_Groundhog Day_ ; Jitters; Iris and Eddie; the first run; the tornado—Barry goes through the motions like an actor who forgot the next line, waiting for _something_ , someone to explain what the point of the entire farce is.

As long as he doesn’t try to go too fast, he can run again. As long as he doesn’t try to tap into the Speedforce, he doesn’t black out. Life goes on; the world keeps spinning.

He stares down Joe when he commands Barry not to tell Iris. “You know I can’t do that,” he says and Joe looks angry and scared and it doesn’t matter, any of it, because no one will remember any of this, will they?

And days later when Iris storms into his lab, demanding to know what’s going on with him, he pauses and turns and waits until she looks at him—really _looks_ at him—and he says, “Things have been crazy, Iris: that lightning made me fast. Really fast. Super fast.”

She laughs, and rolls her eyes and doesn’t believe him. Tells him she’ll be around when he’s ready to tell her the truth.

He runs, that afternoon, straight for the horizon, just to prove he can.

::

_Waking #73_

He tries again: this time waits until she’s excitedly talking about the Streak at Jitters, showing him the articles she’s been researching. Waits until she pauses for breath and then says: “Iris, _watch_ ,” and he flashes to the other side of the room.

Her eyes fly wide, hand against her lips. “What—Barry, what _was_ that?”

“When I got struck by that lightning, Iris, it changed me. It made me fast. And now I’m—I’m trying to help this city.”

She nods, and keeps nodding, and then drops into a chair. “Is that why—is that why you’ve been weird lately?”

If only she knew: sure, he was fast; but he was also in love; he wasn’t the same Barry who’d risen from a coma—how to wrap all of that into an explanation that would make sense?  

“I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to tell you because it’s so—so strange. So unbelievable, right? Like, suddenly I can run fast, and heal, and nothing really makes sense any more. I didn’t even know how to tell you. Where to _begin_ to tell you.”

“How fast?”

He laughs, joy surging through him. She doesn’t even know how fantastic of a reporter she is going to be, asking vital questions even through her own shock. He feels his pride, his love, twisting in his throat. “Pretty fast.”

“And you can—heal?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I heal fast, too.”

“Barry. This is so—I can’t believe—you’re the Streak. I’m just—”

He crouches in front of her; folding her hands between his own. “I know. I _know_. It’s...impossible, right?”

Her eyes lift, expression serious. “Barry. When you run. The night your mother—the _lightning storm_. Do you think—?”

He could die with this feeling bursting inside him. “Yeah, Iris, yes. I do; I _know_.”

::

_Waking #87_

He can change anything he wants to, as long as he doesn’t go beyond the bare bones of his powers. He knows he _can_ : the Speedforce is humming in the back of his mind like a live wire but it’s locked away, beyond his reach.

Things seem to go sideways the more he diverges from what originally happened, but he doesn’t care. Can’t care. Because he’s got a new normal, now: wake up; Jitters; Joe; Iris and Eddie; running; tell Joe; tell Iris. He doesn’t stop pushing, rushing, _running_.

But this time, this time…he’s distracted. Snart and his damn gun, and Barry’s not paying enough attention and it hits him hard. When he gets himself up, he knows it’s not good. The pain is—more than he’s felt before and there’s a halo of red and black in his vision that makes moving a cautious thing.  

He feels a moment of panic, of fear and then—then he realizes that this, perhaps, is the way to end this. A way to escape it. Over the comms he can hear Cisco and Caitlin and Thawne/Wells shouting, trying to get him to _move_ , but he—

He can’t. He doesn’t. He won’t.

He lets the darkness win.

::

_Waking #99_

He asks Thawne/Wells about it, once, about time loops, and gets a look of such wrathful scorn that he immediately turns and bolts.

::

_Waking #102_

This time, he lets it all happen as it had, once. Bites his tongue; lets his silence be an answer. Flirts with Iris on the rooftops; fights the villains; befriends Cisco and Caitlin; tries to be a hero. When he gets whammied by the Rainbow Rebel or whatever name Cisco had given him, he finds that his rage is actually—it’s huge and yearning but it’s weirdly twisted up because the truth is that he’s really only angry at himself, now.

Not at Joe, even with all his concerned, overbearing warnings; not at Eddie for loving a woman who is so very lovable; not at Iris for daring to dream the impossible; not at Cisco or Caitlin or even Thawne/Wells—no, it’s anger at himself, for not being strong enough to protect those he loves, and for not being smart enough to figure out what’s got him trapped, and for not being good enough to recognize his all-consuming selfishness.

The rage burns hot and burns bright and then: burns out.

He has never felt so tired.

He stands on a rooftop in the dark and looks out over the city he has tried to protect and he confesses. Words pour out of him like a litany, promises and pains and things he has never tried to explain to anyone before because there had never been time. Behind him, Iris lets out an abbreviated sound and then falls silent. Above him, the stars lay scattered across the skies. Beneath him, the city stirs.

When he stops, Iris takes one step—one careful step, her boot heels loud on the rooftop—and then says, voice firm, “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?” he asks, but he says it to the moon because maybe after everything—after Thawne/Wells and Doom and Savitar and blood on the ground—maybe he’s still just a boy that’s afraid of a girl turning away from him.

“You got _me_ , Barry Allen. I’m on your side. You dumbass.” And her hand is in his and there’s lightning in her fingers and in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?” She squeezes his hand, gently, removing the bite of her words.

“I guess I wasn’t ready?”

“Wasn’t ready to tell me, or tell anyone, or—?”

“To tell you, specifically. You’re—you’re my best friend, Iris. And when I woke up and things had changed…” He doesn’t let himself say Eddie’s name. “...I didn’t want to change them _more_ , y’know?”

She’s silent, thumb rubbing absently against the heel of his hand. He swears the Speedforce is thundering in his ears, and he’s being pulled between the two.

When she speaks, her voice is an arrow loosed straight for his heart. “Honestly Barry, sometimes I think you’re the only constant thing in the whole world.”

::

_Waking #2??_

He’s lost count.

But still, he proceeds: STAR Labs sweatshirt; Jitters; Iris and Eddie; the first run; metas and monsters and the slow progression of time. He shows his face to Joe; he stands on a rooftop in the darkness and tells Iris. He finds a balance between the need to run and the need to be with those he loves.

And then, one not-so-special day, while the world goes a little mad around them, when danger is threatening his world, he feels the crackle of power in his skin; feels it surge deep in his bones. And he turns and he _runs_. And there is lightning and there is speed and there is freedom—the world goes crooked, suddenly, and he’s falling right into the Speedforce.

Around him, everything blurs and then reforms and he’s standing in Joe’s living room, watching headlights streak in the distance out rain-spattered windows. Wally-but-not-Wally is standing at the far end of the dining room table, expression flat as he watches Barry.

“Welcome, Flash,” he says finally.

“Why is this happening to me?”

“Why is what happening to you?”

Barry crosses to lean against the facing chair, knuckles white against the backrest. “You’re doing this to me. You’ve trapped me in some infinite loop and I can’t—I can’t—why can’t I go home?”

Wally-but-not-Wally laughs. “Isn’t this home, Flash?” He stands, looking like he had when Wally had first come into their lives: brash and angry and scared. “Joe West’s humble home, welcoming a child who had just seen the impossible? But maybe not. Maybe you forget. Maybe you need to remember where it is you came from.” He nods at the front door, which is now standing open and filled with gold light. There’s a rushing in his ears.

“What does that mean?” he shouts over the sound, but not-Wally has turned and disappeared.

::

_Waking #125_

He has told her that he is the Flash a hundred different ways. He has told her on rooftops, on street corners, on Joe’s couch, in a booth at Jitters while she slides a coffee across the table. He has told her everything he can: of the spark in his skin, of the wind on his face, of the speed, of the _need._ He runs and runs, for her. For her.

But what he hasn’t yet found the words for is how to tell her how he _feels_ —

He remembers what he said to her on that Christmas evening the first year as the Flash; he remembers the rend it tore in their relationship; he remembers her love for Eddie, and how her stubborn heart never releases those she chooses to love. (And he asks himself, could he do that to her? Can he do that to Eddie, knowing what he knows, knowing how it ends—can he?)

And those words…they feel so small, now. With everything that has happened between them, what he feels for Iris has grown into something—as he once told another Iris in another place, another time—undefinable.

And how do you tell someone that? That you love them to a point that lies beyond words? That they are what bring you home? Would that be a burden to someone who doesn’t remember any of the milestones that led to such a place? He feels like it would be unkind, to lay that at her feet, even expecting nothing, it would be—

Sometimes, he thinks if he could just run fast enough, he could outrun the not knowing.

And then, one day, Iris West demands honesty.

He tells her about his powers on the rooftop of Jitters while the skies loom heavy and grey. There is a storm coming and he can feel the crackle of static in the air. He tells her, pulling back the cowl, and she wraps her arms around herself and looks out over Central City.

“So you’re the Flash,” she says. “Is that why you’re so distant, lately?”

He starts to tell her yes, starts to tell her that he was trying to keep her safe, starts to _lie_ —

“Barry Allen. You and I have been best friends for half our lives. Do you think I can’t tell when you’re not telling me everything?”

In the distance there are car horns and the rumble of traffic, sirens and train tracks. He can hear his heart, too, racing in his ears.

“Iris, I—”

“Eddie thinks you have feelings for me.” Her eyes are wide in the darkness, but he knows her so well he can picture her face, her lip between her teeth, her fingers curled into her sleeves.  

The truth is in all the things he cannot bring himself to say.

She breathes out. In the distance, he hears thunder.

::

_Waking #2??, cont._

The gold-lit front door of Joe’s house leads to the Cortex, dark and still, where he finds not-Cisco studying the Flash suit with crossed arms. “Welcome, Flash.”

“What did you mean, about me needing to remember where I came from?”

Not-Cisco nods at the suit. “Which do you think came first: the speedster, or the Speedforce?”

“I—I don’t know; I—” Barry stumbles over his words and falls silent, the air heavy.

“Which do you think came first: the speedster or Barry Allen?”

“I—what do you—”

“And now here’s the real head scratcher: which do you think came first, Barry Allen or the Speedforce?” There’s a pause and then Not-Cisco claps his hands together and turns. “Not that you can answer, of course. Only we know the answer. And we’re not telling.”

Barry breathes out. “I just want to know how to get home, back to where I belong. Home.”

“But isn’t this home, Flash?” Not-Cisco holds out his arms, gesturing around him at the familiar corners of the Cortex. Even in the darkness, he knows this place. “Isn’t this the place where the Flash was born?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” he tries. The rushing is starting to build in his ears again and there’s the glow of gold in the doorway behind the computers. “Is this another lesson?”

“You tell us, Flash. Tell us what home is. Tell us what lesson you have to learn.” And Not-Cisco turns, and is gone.

::

_Waking #174?_

“Do you regret any of this?” he asks Cisco and Caitlin once, after he’s been awake and the Flash for a few weeks. He’d goaded them into visiting the roof of STAR Labs with pizza and they’re looking out over Central City while Cisco pretends not to be a little bit afraid of heights.

“Any of what?” Caitlin asks, ever precise. “STAR Labs? Working with you?”

“I don’t know,” Barry says finally, shrugging. He fiddles with his pizza box. “I just—with the particle accelerator accident, and then _me_ , I guess I realize that you never got much of a say. About, y’know, the team or whatever.”

Cisco sits up far enough to point a finger in Barry’s direction. “I chose the Superhero life; it did not choose me. Don’t forget it.” 

Caitlin almost smiles, face turned carefully away. “He’s not entirely wrong,” she says after a moment, her voice steady and stern. “We could have walked away. But this is…it’s better. All of us, together. A team.”

“Team Flash!” Cisco crows, finger now pointing to the stars. “Only the best, most awesome team in the entire Universe.”

::

_Waking #2??, cont._

The gold-lit door in the Cortex leads to the loft. He finds Not-Iris standing by the windows. Her face is serene, beautiful, and he aches with missing her even as he knows this is not truly her.

“Welcome, Flash,” she says.

“How do I get home?” he tries again.

She raises an eyebrow, the expression familiar and yet strange. “Isn’t this home, Flash? Isn’t this where Barry Allen rests his head?”  

“Why can’t I run anymore?”

“You can run, Flash. The question is why you choose not to run.” Not-Iris says, turning her head to look out the windows again. The sun is setting in the distance and it lights everything in gold, warm and gentle. “The question is why you keep yourself here.”

“What?”

“This place,” she explains, a hand indicating the city and the apartment around them. “You chose this place when you visited us. You chose to relive your awakening. This is a cage of your own making.”

“But the Speedforce trap—” he starts.

Not-Iris shakes her head, and does not look at him. “This is not that trap, Flash. You built that trap to hold another speedster. This you have built to hold yourself.”

“I just want to go home,” he says again, and he hates how pathetic he sounds.

The golden light is flooding the room, now, and the pressure in his ears is beginning to crescendo. He can feel the world unmaking itself and he stumbles, struggling to find something to hold on to.

And then, from out of the chaos, he hears Iris’s voice lifted over the sound of wind and speed, calling his name. Calling him home.

 

 


End file.
